We make things. A million times a day.
We make beds and appointments and late night trips to the drugstore for ibuprofen.
We make time, even when there is none. For the school project. For the friend who needs to feel loved. For the little hands reaching up for help.
We make meals. Sometimes 3 different ones on the same night. Sometimes it’s a stop at a drive-thru. Sometimes it’s an all-day elaborate affair.
We make mistakes. We fumble and fall and fail. Sometimes we laugh them off. Sometimes we see the lesson, even if it stings. Sometimes we make things worse.